


In Which There Is Human Furniture

by omgbubblesomg



Series: 31 fics in 31 days [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Plug, Canon Compliant, Cropping, Exhibitionism, Forniphilia, Implied Hellhound Rape, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Other, Power Imbalance, Public Humiliation, Puppy Crowley, Season/Series 12, i really hope the throne room doesn't return in s13, puppy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 03:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12246396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: Crowley is at Lucifer’s mercy, forced to be a human footstool at the base of what had once beenhisthrone.





	In Which There Is Human Furniture

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 2: Forniphilia (Human Furniture)
> 
> Please note the content warning and tags.
> 
> Also many apologies about the short length of this fic and, presumably, most of the fics for this month. If I could write 1k a day I would [but alas.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/5c26aacebf1f5ba83cca81d4a5505b0f/tumblr_ox78bj0gJ11vv4xgho1_500.gif)

“Come here, puppy,” Lucifer called. Crowley winced internally but dutifully crawled across what had once been _his_ throne room. The plug inside him jostled as he moved, reminding him _once again_ what a monumental fuck up he had made. He knelt at the foot of the chair, naked with his head bowed, waiting for whatever punishment Lucifer had come up with today.

Somewhere in the black depths of his heart, he had probably known that raising Satan was a Bad Idea. But he had so desperately wanted someone to appreciate his ascension to the throne, and none of the lesser idiots could really understand just how _spectacular_ it felt to be the one in charge. He had needed someone to gloat to. Someone who truly understood how it felt to be King.

But of course it had all gone to hell (literally) and now he was back on his knees, grovelling for his own life.

“Master?” he intoned, ignoring the snickers from the onlooking demons.

Lucifer flicked his fingers, and Crowley felt an invisible collar tighten around his throat, drawing him forward. Lucifer lifted his feet so Crowley could crawl right to the base of the throne, where he was left on hands and knees. Lucifer replaced his feet, so that they now rested on Crowley’s bare back.

“Good footstool,” he purred, and there were outright laughs from the crowd. The pressure around Crowley’s neck vanished and he immediately shook Lucifer off.

“Ah, ah,” Lucifer tsked. A crop appeared in his hand, and the pressure around Crowley's neck reappeared, forcing him to stay put. “Footstools don’t move, pet.” The crop came down with a _thwack_ on Crowley’s ass, making him yelp. Again, on the other cheek, and again, lower, across the crack of his ass, right where the plug was buried huge and deep. Lucifer kept going until his cheeks were ablaze, and then sat back to appreciate the view.

“You sadist,” Crowley gasped, as the lower half of his body burned.

Lucifer cackled, and didn’t bother to hide the bulge in his trousers. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he agreed. Then he held the handle of the crop to Crowley’s ass, pushing it between his reddened cheeks. “You hold that there, like a good pet.” He smacked Crowley. Hard. Like razorblades on his already sensitive ass. “And if you drop it I’ll be forced to use it again.”

Crowley tightened his asscheeks, holding the crop in place. It forced him to squeeze around the painfully large plug, which was stopping him from maintaining a good grip. Lucifer leaned back, settling his feet on Crowley’s back once more. The soles of his boots dug into his spine, and Crowley went onto his elbows to balance the weight better. It raised his ass higher but kept his back straight, and he concentrated on maintaining the position while not relaxing his grip on the crop handle.

Above him, the running of Hell continued as normal. He grit his teeth as Lucifer went through the daily ritual of number crunching and soul counting. That used to be _his_ job. And worst of all was that Hell appeared to be carrying on without a hitch. He had spitefully hoped that there would be more trouble for the new leader.

When Lucifer had finished signing the last document, Crowley tried not to breathe or wobble on his tired arms. He desperately didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention.

He shouldn’t have bothered hoping. He was, after all, naked at the front of the throne room. Hardly inconspicuous.

Lucifer removed his feet and replaced them with something even heavier, made of glass. A jug of water. Crowley had to make some last-second adjustments to stop the whole thing tipping over. Somehow, he knew that wouldn’t bode well for him. The jug sloshed wetly, tilting crazily until he found the correct balance.

“Congratulations, footstool,” Lucifer drawled. “You’ve just been promoted to foot table.” He nudged Crowley’s cock with the toe of his boot, and Crowley hissed, swearing softly. “Foot tables don’t talk, pet,” Lucifer reprimanded, tapping the arm of the throne. His lips stretched up into a grin that had Crowley’s dead heart pounding. “Someone fetch the hellhounds!” he called. “My foot table needs something to do with his mouth!” He leaned down to talk directly into Crowley’s ear. “And if you spill even one drop, the hounds will be finding _other_ ways to occupy you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tune in for Kink Day 3: Biting


End file.
